Bedside Manner
by ExceedinglyPeculiarChick
Summary: There's something about sick days with Percy that makes Annabeth forget about how uncomfortable it is to actually be sick. / Or, Percy is a dork, Annabeth is miserable, and nobody can decide on a TV show. K plus for mild language.


Of course, there's the time Annabeth gets Percy so sick that both of them are sent straight to bed by a stern-looking Sally—an arrangement they're completely fine with, considering the fact that they're both pretty much too miserable to move. They make their stronghold on Percy's bed with plenty of pillows and blankets, stockpile all the tissue boxes they can find, then settle in to watch reruns of old TV shows. Percy always ruins the jokes by sneezing loudly just as the punchline rolls around.

"In sickness and in health, yeah?" he asks thickly after the eighth or ninth time, rolling over and pulling her tightly into his arms. "Gods of Olympus, I feel like absolute crap."

Annabeth groans. "Me too. I _hate_ being sick." She has to take a moment to adjust herself a little bit so that her nose isn't being squashed against Percy's too-warm skin. When she looks up, he's watching her through half-lidded, fever-bright eyes, still unfairly attractive despite his pale, sweaty face and bright red nose.

"You're really beautiful, do you know that?" he asks, his voice grating deep in his throat. "I mean it. You look like freaking Aphrodite."

She rolls her eyes, although it's mostly for her own benefit. "Percy, I look like someone who's stuck in bed with a cold. There's a pretty big difference between me and Aphrodite."

"I don't think so," he insists. "You're, like, ridiculously pretty right now—and _wow_, if that doesn't make me sound like a son of Aphrodite then I don't know what does."

Annabeth grins tiredly. "So my suffering has become one of your weird sexual fantasies? It's not very nice of you to exploit your girlfriend like that, you know."

"I wouldn't say it's a _sexual_ fantasy..." he starts, casting around for a way to finish his sentence. "There's just something about seeing you... _vulnerable_ like this. It makes you even prettier than you usually are."

Shaking her head in mock despair, she reaches up to kiss him (they're sick anyway, so she figures that worrying about hygiene is not something to be wasting energy on right now). The feeling she gets when their lips meet is still the best thing in the world, even though she's pretty sure her lips are chapped to the point where they resemble the Sahara Desert.

She breaks away much sooner than she'd like to, but her stupid nose is stuffed up _again_—holy Athena, what she wouldn't give to be able to breathe normally—so she gropes around for the tissue box on the mattress beside her and blows her nose for what seems like the hundredth time in the last five minutes. There's an annoying tickle in her nose that won't go away, causing her to sneeze—once, twice, then over and over again.

Percy rubs his hand in soothing circles across her back until the sneezes subside, then gently guides her back so her head is resting on his chest. His familiar heartbeat rumbles under her ear. "All sneezed out, huh, Wise Girl?"

"Hardly," she sniffles. Her throat is so sore that she can hardly talk, and the itching in her nose is driving her _insane_. "I just want to curl up and die right now."

"Don't do that," he says teasingly. "Then I won't have anybody to feel miserable with."

"I'm sorry I got you sick," Annabeth mumbles. "I'm an awful person."

Percy fixes her with a stern glare. "You're not an awful person. You have a cold and you need to get some rest, and that's the end of that." He proceeds to wrap her up in a bear hug, crushing her against his hot skin (she doesn't object because she's absolutely_ freezing_ despite the ten or so blankets she's got piled on top of her) and burying his face in her hair. "Besides, you're a good sick buddy. You don't try to talk my ears off."

She tries to laugh but can only come up with a weak chuckle. "Thanks, I guess?"

"You're welcome," he says, his voice half a whisper. "Now shut up and try to get some sleep, because I know for a fact that we could both use quite a bit."

"Ooh, bed rest," Annabeth says teasingly, walking her fingers absently down his spine to the small of his back and causing him to shudder involuntarily. "Sounds like a risky treatment, Doctor Jackson."

"I think you'll be fine," he replies, and despite his shadowed eyes and rubbed-raw nose, she can't help but think that he's incredibly handsome. "Some time off from training isn't going to hurt you."_  
_

"I guess not," she concedes. "Now" —she reaches across to his night table and turns off the lamp, then leans down to give him a peck on the cheek— "how about that well-deserved beauty sleep?"

* * *

**A/N: Oh my gods, you two are such huge dorks. JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY. :)**

**I don't really know where this came from, actually, but... eh. It was kind of the result of me saying "_hey-let's-throw-sick-Percy-and-Annabeth-into-the-s ame-bed-and-see-what-happens-because-they-totally- won't-end-up-setting-the-building-on-fire-or-anyth ing_" and then just going with it. I actually kind of like how it turned out...? **

**(it's 4:45 am so please excuse me)**

**I didn't want to go full-on whump!fic with this one, mostly because you'll get that in the Aug. 18th fic (ehehehe), so I just decided on this version. Let me know what you guys thought—barely anyone reviewed my last story!**

**Thanks again for putting up with my crap, dudes. Yours in demigodishness, and all that. Peace out.**

**EPC**


End file.
